


Threes

by Scriptor_Bellum



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Bill Cipher Redemption, Fluff, Gen, Headcanon Backstory, Human Bill Cipher, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Redemption, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sensory Overload, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Violence, and it's gonna get pretty dark and nitty-gritty emotionally speaking, but it will feature themes of self-harm and suicide, more characters and tags to be added as the story goes along!, so be careful!, the Mature tag is there for a reason, there's nothing sexually explicit in this work aside from maybe a few jokes tossed in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scriptor_Bellum/pseuds/Scriptor_Bellum
Summary: There’s always more than one side to a story.Sometimes, there are more than two.Bill Cipher redemption arc! No romance with him, mostly friendship and family and forgiveness and feels and a whole lotta crazy. Slow burn because this is Bill fucking Cipher we’re talking about here; every step of getting him to change is gonna be like pulling teeth.Cross-posted to Fanfiction.net.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WOW! This is a story I've been wanting to do for a long, long time. I'd started it before my computer originally took a dive, and hadn't finished the first chapter. But I kept writing from memory on my new computer, while the beginning of the first chapter was stuck on my old computer's hard drive.
> 
> FINALLY, I've got all the stuff from my old computer back, and I could mesh everything together into one document.
> 
> This probably will be updated infrequently, given that my Gravity Falls writing muse comes and goes, but I hope you like it enough to stick around despite an irregular update schedule!
> 
> Bear in mind that the warnings and tags are there for a reason. **This story will feature frequent themes of self-harm, self-hatred, and suicidal thoughts. It's going to get pretty dark in terms of emotions. If that makes you uncomfortable, I recommend either treading very carefully with this fic, or just forgoing it entirely. Your wellbeing is more important than reading this story! Take care of yourself, and don't use this fic to harm yourself.**
> 
> Okay, so! With that in mind, enjoy the first chapter! <3 And don't forget to comment if you liked it!! <3

His head is pounding.

He can’t think straight.

He can’t think at all.

All his thoughts are focused on stupid little sensations that he keeps getting distracted by – his heart beating in his ears, the fog that’s encasing his brain, the rise and fall of his chest as his lungs take in air.

Everything hurts.

Why does everything hurt?

Why can he _feel it?_

Why…?

This has to be a nightmare, and if he wasn’t so tired, he might laugh at the irony.

A dream demon having a bad dream.

Pathetic, when you look at it from the right angle, isn’t it?

And of course, by _right angle,_ he means literally any angle conceivable.

He’s not used to this. It’s all too much, too much, too much, too much, too much, TOO MUCH…

Flames run the length of his insides, and when he finally opens his eyes, his vision is blurry. That headache is pulsing against the back of his eyes. _Eyes._ … Eyes. As in, more than one. Why does he have two eyes? Why do they feel smaller? Why is he dizzy?

It’s a bad dream. Bad dream. Awful. Nightmare. It has to be. It has to be, right? There’s no way this can be real. He’s stuck in limbo. Purgatory. That’s what this is – basically hell’s waiting room.

He’s being held for punishment. He’s waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting to be given some ridiculous penance by that frilly know-it-all. It’s going to suck. He knows it’s going to suck. Whatever he has to do, it’s going to be a lot worse than standing in one place and being a pigeon perch for all eternity. Nobody in their right mind would let him get off that easy.

He groans and reaches up to rub at his new eyes. Maybe if the tension goes away, so will the headache. Pain is just torture if it has a mind of its own, and he’s not amused. For a few seconds, the motion of pressing against his eyelids, moving fingertips back and forth, actually feels a little soothing. It’s enough for him to let out a sigh. All he has to do is wait this out. Right? Right. He just has to relax, and will himself to wake up, and he’ll come to in a ludicrously soft excuse for a bed, and then he’ll face whatever music the Axolotl plays for him. In an effort to speed up the process, he lets his fingertips keep kneading…

… Until he suddenly realizes how many fingers he has.

Then his eyes snap open, and stare at the digits. There are five of them, attached to a fleshy palm that he never had before. He can only remember having three fingers on each skinny arm for as long as he’s ever existed. Trillions of years… surely he knows his own body by now. And this? This… this isn’t his body. It _feels_ like his body, but it’s not. There’s too much space. He feels long and thin and irregular and squishy. He doesn’t _fit_ comfortably inside himself. None of his parts match. He’s not symmetrical or completely angular.

Is he a prisoner? Is this thing – whatever it is – his prison or something?

Another groan leaves his now independent lips as he shifts his legs around. When it does, he can feel air bubbles popping the joints of his knees and muscles tugging on tendons. Is motion supposed to feel this strange? Just moving makes him feel exhausted. It used to be so simple before, and now suddenly, it feels like a huge series of steps to do nothing but bend his leg.

He finally manages to push himself up, arms raising and fingers raking through his hair.

– Wait.

Oh.

Fuck.

_What?_

His hair. He has hair? He’s never had hair before. As soon as he realizes that he has it, he can feel it growing. Despite not being inherently painful, it’s another sensation to pile onto everything else he can feel. It’s all _so much._ How do mortals stand this? Being able to feel and feel and feel and never being able to shut it off? He pulls at his hair, only able to stop when a few strands rip loose in his hand. It’s painful, just a little sting, but he can control it. That’s the kind of pain that makes him feel less anxious.

Not that anything can really calm him down at the moment. He’s human. Bill Cipher, a former demon, a being of pure energy with no weaknesses, is _human._ He doesn’t know how he got like this, and he doesn’t particularly care. All he knows is that this is absolutely not what he was asking for when he invoked the Axolotl.

The scream he lets out when he gets a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby mirror would probably be enough to shatter glass if he had his original voice.

* * *

 “Sounds like The Almighty Three-Sided Corn Chip is finally awake.” There isn’t as much concern in the statement as there probably should be. Given that it’s coming from Stanley Pines, who’s currently ducking down into the fridge for a soda while in only his underwear, nobody would think it too much of a surprise. “Hey, Ford,” he continues as he pops the tab on the can of Pitt Cola, “I’ll betcha twenty bucks that he can’t walk two feet without bumpin’ into somethin’ now. He’s suddenly got two eyes an’ depth perception an’ he thinks he’s gonna waltz around here like a ballerina? Not t’ mention, he probably barely has any idea how legs work.”

One eyebrow quirks upward on a nearly identical face. The owner of said face lets out a long sigh before flipping another page in his current research. “I cannot _believe_ we had to come rushing back to Gravity Falls to deal with this. Isn’t ruining our lives once enough for Bill? And how did he manage to return, anyway? You… you literally erased him along with your mind.”

Stan snorts before gulping down a few swigs of his soda. “’S not like we weren’t already on our way back here when Dipper called us. We just had to speed up. Anyway, ain’t it all explained in the book we found with him? Y’know, the one you’re readin’ _right now?_ ”

“It’s not even a book.” Ford’s brow furrows, and he closes the book completely. “The one thing that had writing on it was the page that Dipper found addressed to Bill, separate from the book. The rest of it is… is completely blank. Except, of course–” He brings one fingertip on the cover. “– For the inside cover, which is engraved with _Property of Bill Cipher._ What the… hell… is he messing with us? Is somebody else messing with us? This is… I don’t even have a word for this. None of it makes sense. I trust what Dipper said happened and what he agreed to, but… Bill is… unpredictable and dangerous. Can someone like him even try to redeem himself? Much less the possibility that anything we try will actually take…”

“Ah, don’t gripe _too_ much, Ford.” Stan leans against the counter and throws back a swig of his drink. Although he’s none too thrilled to see the demon either – much less have a responsibility to basically not let the bastard die and give him lessons in not being a bastard – he’s not too worried. Bill doesn’t have his powers, he’s human, and he’s apparently in the middle of freaking out. The situation doesn’t exactly spell _threat_ to Stan. There’s nothing Bill can do to any of them if he’s powerless and not in his right mind. Well… nothing he can do that they can’t handle, anyway. “Maybe we can think of this as… a new adventure. Y’know? Hey, it’ll probably be our biggest one yet. Bigger than defeatin’ a dream demon!”

“ _Reforming_ a dream demon,” Ford groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The last twenty-four hours have been nerve-wracking. Does Stan realize that Bill has been alive for over a trillion years? If he hasn’t learned anything on his own, there’s nothing they can say that will change him. “Need I remind you, Stanley, that in the lab right now is a being who nearly killed us a few summers ago? Nearly killed our great niece and nephew? Nearly destroyed the world? This isn’t an adventure. It’s _suicide._ ”

The other man’s hands (including the currently occupied one) spread in a gesture of surrender. “Listen, I didn’t say I wasn’t still pissed at him. If I’d been the one to find him, he’d probably have a coupla holes in him.”

“That isn’t my point!” Well, it’s only half his point. Ford still isn’t quite over everything that Bill did to the two of them and everything he did to the kids. Every possession of his still has numerous locks and magical seals because of Bill. Because of the paranoia he caused. Because of Bill. “He isn’t going to change. Do you know what’s going to happen if we try this? We’re going to try. We’re going to give and give and give. And he’s going to take and take and give us _nothing._ He’s been alive for almost as long as the universe itself has existed, I’m sure. He’s more of an adult than either of us. If he hasn’t changed in all that time, there isn’t anything we can do to make him. We’re going to give it everything we have, he won’t change, and all that will happen is that we’ll all end up spent. And that’s _if_ he doesn’t spontaneously regain his powers and obliterate the Earth.”

A frown takes over Stan’s face as he thinks about all that. It makes him think. The words bring back a feeling he’s not entirely sure he wants to deal with at the moment. “Maybe I’m wrong t’ think about it this way, Ford… but it wasn’t that long ago that not a lotta people had faith in _me._ Lasted a while. Over thirty years, nobody really believed in me. _I_ didn’t even believe in me. Maybe the corn chip just needs… I dunno. Somethin’ nobody’s ever given him before.”

As far as Ford is concerned, there’s only one thing in his brother’s words that he thinks is right. That’s the fact that, yes, Stan _is_ wrong to think about it that way. “That isn’t the same thing, Stan. You and Bill are nothing alike.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We’re both conmen. Smooth talkers. Can’t trust us as far as you can throw us. Which is maybe a little farther in my case than his, but still.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re a good person. Bill isn’t. The power of love is not going to fix someone like Bill.”

Just as Stan was thinking of something he could reply to that admittedly logical statement with, the door to the kitchen opened and in poked Dipper’s head. “Uhhh… you guys aware that Bill is down there screaming about something? Just, one long, giant, ear-splitting scream?”

Stan gave up the conversation with his twin altogether and took another gulp of his soda. “Yep.”

A brown eyebrow arches. “Are one of you gonna go see what’s up, or…?”

“Nope,” comes the response in two-part harmony.

Dipper rolls his eyes. It’s not like he actually cares about Bill as a person, but a loud, prolonged noise like that is making it pretty hard to concentrate on not only his homework, but starting a new journal. “Any objections to me going down there to see what’s up?”

The older twins exchange a look between themselves. It’s not obvious what’s being communicated; the only clear thing is that neither of them really _wants_ Dipper going down there. Stan is the first to speak. “You’re an adult, kid. Do what you want. Just, you know. Keep your guard up.”

“Uh… yeah.” Like he wasn’t going to do that anyway. He knows Bill’s tricks, and even though this situation is way different, there’s no guarantee that Bill isn’t going to try something manipulative or just attack him outright. “You guys forget that I now carry a taser in my pocket just in case?” he grins.

The two look at each other again in surprise, then it’s Ford that breaks the silence. “Heh, I… guess we did.”

“You’re gettin’ old!”

Stan’s rewarded with a playful nudge to the arm by his brother and a laugh out of his great nephew. “Alright, well,” Dipper sighs, still smiling, “I better go see what that’s about. We can’t exactly have Mabel coming home to unholy demon screeching. That might _ruin the surprise._ ”

* * *

 The sight that greets Dipper when he gets to the locked room in the basement isn’t what he expected.

Although, to be fair… he’s not quite sure _what_ he expected.

What he’s faced with is Bill’s human form, sitting straight up in the bed, hands buried in his hair, several angry red streaks down his cheeks, still wailing like a banshee. The blue eyes he’s got are wide, and the only thing that breaks his screaming are the frantic swells and dips of his chest as he sucks air in terrifyingly shallow, rapid gasps.

Despite the fact that this is Bill Cipher, interdimensional criminal and world-class asshole extraordinaire, Dipper knows a panic attack when he sees one, and he can’t just ignore it.

“Hey, hey, man! Calm down!” It’s not the brightest thing to say, and he knows it. He compounds it by hurrying forward and grabbing at Bill’s wrists, trying to pull the ex-demon’s hands down out of his hair. What the hell is he doing? Trying to pull out his own hair? “It’s okay!”

Bill struggles almost immediately, grappling against Dipper’s grip. The only reason the screaming tapers off is so that he can devote his entire reservoir of energy into not being touched. “G-get off! _GET OFF!_ ”

“What the hell, man?! I’m trying to help you!”

A snarl of Bill’s lip is followed quickly by as much of a shove as he can manage. “You _can’t help!_ ” He returns to practically hyperventilating as soon as Dipper’s no longer in contact with him, and reaches up to rake his fingernails down his face.

Oh. Yikes. So that’s what those lines on his face are from. “Bill, listen to me!” Even Dipper isn’t sure he can help, but he’s got to try something. “You’ve gotta snap out of that! You’re gonna pass out if you keep breathing like that!”

His muscles are still tense even as he looks over at the other man. Nails have left another set of crimson trails down his face – it doesn’t seem like they’ve broken the skin, though. They’re more like irritated scrapes. There’s a look in his eyes like he’s trapped, with a clear message: _I don’t know how to STOP._

Dipper snatches Bill’s wrists again, yanking them back so he can’t do any more damage to himself. Why was he doing that in the first place? Why wasn’t his first instinct to bang on the door or take a swipe at Dipper as soon as he came in? “Take one deep breath, and hold it for five seconds, then let it out, and take another _deep_ breath. Same thing. Rinse and repeat. Don’t take shallow breaths or try to breathe fast. Take. It. Slow.”

It takes a moment for him to get the hang of doing what Dipper told him to do. Eventually, though, he starts pulling in air at a normal rate and breathing like it isn’t foreign to him. His eyes are still wide. His muscles haven’t loosened up. He hasn’t ceased to look like a cornered animal. It looks as if he wants to start screaming again. “What… did… you… do… to… me?!” he manages to hiss in between his deep breaths.

“What did _I_ do?” The implication that Dipper would ever be cruel enough to put anyone – even Bill Cipher – through torture that makes him freak out like _this_ offends him. Even when they had to defeat Bill, at the very least they tried to make it quick and relatively painless. None of them are into drawn-out, manipulative mind games like he is. “All I did was bring you back here and help Ford make the room Bill-proof. You’ve got someone else to thank for turning you human.”

Those icy blue eyes are nothing compared to the stare that Bill’s old eye would have given Dipper. “You’ve got five seconds to explain before I – be… fore… _**I…!** _ ” Bill’s words are punctuated with one hand raising, fingers snapping. Then snapping again. Over and over. Frustration clouds over his face as he continues the action despite nothing happening. “ _Where are my powers?!_ Zkdw’v jrlqj rq?! Zkb dp L wudsshg lq wklv xvhohvv phdwvdfn dqg _**ZKHUH DUH PB SRZHUV?!** _ ”

The strange ‘language’ takes Dipper aback, and he recognizes it a simple cipher. The… same one that’s in the letter he was given earlier. Bill speaks too fast to decode it in an instant. He must _really_ be worked up to slip into what’s probably his first language. Part of Dipper is kind of satisfied by seeing the monster who’s been so much trouble for them suffering a little. There’s an odd schadenfreude in knowing that there’s something that can freak even Bill out. After a moment, however, the panicked shallow breaths come back, and that’s more worrying than gratifying. “Hey, deep breaths, remember?” He’s annoyed on some level, having to repeat himself because apparently Bill didn’t retain the information to keep himself from passing out the first time Dipper told him what to do. “You don’t have your powers.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Most of Bill’s gaze right now is anger. There’s something else behind it… a little pinprick of fear. Heh. So Bill’s afraid of something after all. That something is not having his powers, evidently. It might go deeper than that. “And how do you know that, if you’re not the one who _did this to me?!_ ”

“Calm down, asshole.” Dipper grunts as he pushes himself back to his feet. “Let me go grab the letter. It’ll explain everything. It’s short, but I have a feeling you’ll know what it means.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper has a flashback to how this whole mess started, and Bill throws a tantrum. It's gonna be a long time before anything positive happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a LOT of fun writing Dipper's flashback, tbh. The Axolotl is cool to play around with, and I realized that I adore writing Dipper. <3
> 
> Bill is... still Bill, lol. Even Dipper acknowledges that very little about him has changed, except his appearance. Everybody's got a long road ahead of them if they wanna help Bill be a better person. It ain't gonna be pretty OR easy.
> 
> Translations for Bill's language/the shift-of-three Caesar cipher can be found in the notes at the end~
> 
> Alrighty! Welp, as always, please leave a comment if you enjoyed it! Tell me what your favorite parts are! Guesses for future chapters! Stuff you'd like to see more of or see in general, in the long run! Reviews feed me and motivate me to wanna write more. <3

“ _I apologize that we must meet like this, Dipper.”_

_The voice was low and soothing, cutting through the pink cotton clouds. It seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere as far as Dipper could tell. He was floating without his feet on the ground, not touching anywhere, his fingers reaching out only for the clouds to break apart like an illusion and form again. As if this atmosphere was formed around him rather than was disturbed by him. Everything felt in sync. Peaceful. Cool and soft and the air so thick with creation that he drew in life with every breath._

_His eyes search for the voice’s source for a moment before it came into view; a large lizard, translucent carnation in_ _hue_ _and adorned intermittently with magenta frills. Black eyes that shone brighter than stars while they looked straight into Dipper’s soul. Dipper felt at the time like he should be afraid, like he should scream or at least scramble backwards, but he didn’t. The only feeling that washed over him when he saw the creature was a sense of unburdened serenity. It looked as if the creature was smiling._

“ _It’s… okay,” he found himself saying. He wasn’t even sure why the creature was apologizing, and yet,_ _the need to reassure him tugged at_ _the young adult’s_ _mind. “Who…_ _or… what… are you?”_

_The apparent smile didn’t fade. “I am the Axolotl.”_

_That didn’t tell him too much. Dipper gave an awkward smile in return, carefully pushing himself a little closer. His curiosity hadn’t waned over the years even if he was more cautious now. “Nice to meet you. Seems like you already know me, so… what – what does that mean? Axolotl. I know what those are, but… I mean…”_

“ _You want to know why you are here and what my place in the universe is.”_ _It wasn’t a question, and Dipper got the feeling that the Axolotl always knew. He was just doing things at the pace that was most comfortable for Dipper. Pretty considerate. “I am a creator._ _I am a_ _being of pure energy who shapes things into existence.”_

_**I’m a being of pure energy with no weaknesses!** _ _ The memory of a long-dead voice rattled around in Dipper’s skull for a moment. He probably couldn’t have hidden it from the Axolotl, whose eyes took on a softer glow as the echo of a quote faded.  _ _ Eight years  _ _ and several sessions of some-things-left-out therapy _ _ hadn’t quite mended  _ _ every _ _ traumatized  _ _ recess _ _ in his mind. He still thought about Bill a lot. _ _ “So you’re, like… the anti Bill Cipher.” _

“ _In a sense.” The Axolotl’s tail swept backwards slowly, even though the creature himself seemed not to move otherwise. “It is interesting that you brought him up all on your own. I was not sure whether you would. You have not forgotten him, have you?”_

_ Dipper scoffed slightly, crossing his legs in a mime of sitting on one of the clouds that molds perfectly to complete the illusion. “How could I? Even if I ever get over everything he did to my family and I, he’s… not exactly the kind of person or – or  _ _**thing** _ _ – you just… forget.” _

_The Axolotl didn’t move. However, the vibe that was given off toward his guest gave Dipper the sense that the creature was nodding. “You are not angry with him.”_

“… _Not_ _really._ _N_ _ot –_ _not_ _anymore._ _Which is probably stupid, but…_ _” A sigh left the brunette as he rested his chin in a cupped hand. Although it hadn’t been very long and the wounds were still kind of raw, he hadn’t been_ _truly_ _mad at Bill for about_ _two_ _year_ _s or so_ _now. Of course, that wasn’t to say he forgave Bill for anything. “It’s not like I could carry that around forever. Anger is heavy and dangerous. It’s like poison. I just… I just don’t_ _ **get**_ _it, you know?” He didn’t have to tack that on at the end. He knew that the Axolotl knew._

_The Axolotl made a quiet humming noise, as if in approval or agreement. A gentle push for him to go on._

“ _I mean…” Dipper ran a hand through his hair as he thought about exactly what he did mean. “That whole summer that Mabel and I were in Gravity Falls… we ran into some weird shit. Crazy monsters who all seemed… totally incomprehensible. But…_ _almost_ _every adventure we had… ended with_ _us_ _having some kind of understanding as to why they did what they did. You know?” Again it was totally unnecessary, but Dipper’s habit of rambling to ensure that he g_ _e_ _t_ _s_ _his point across fully ha_ _s_ _only grown with time. “Everything, everybody we_ _went up against_ _, it was like I_ _ **got**_ _them, even if I didn’t agree with_ _what they did_ _. The gnomes were all lonely and didn’t have any girls around, so they wanted to marry Mabel. The_ _Summerween_ _Trickster just wanted to be accepted for what he was, because_ _he was literally born out of people thinking_ _h_ _is parts were_ _n’t good enough. I mean, even_ _ **Stan**_ _made some really bad choices and we almost didn’t forgive him. But everything he did was for a reason… to get Ford back, to protect his family._ _Hell, I actually even understood Gideon enough to get him to turn stuff around for the most part._ _”_

_He paused to look down into the clouds, despite only being able to see more candy-colored fluff below. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at or looking for. It was just that the only person he ever talked about this in depth with was Mabel. Their great uncles would probably have heart attacks if he tried to talk to them about this. Mabel at least_ _got it_ _. “But, Bill… I never_ _understood_ _him._ _None of us did._ _We_ _never could. Like, I understand that his dimension was dying and all, but… who thinks that’s a good reason to… come take over another dimension and hurt people and try to destroy the whole world?_ _And act like it’s all one giant party? I dunno._ _Bill never made_ _ **sense**_ _to me. No matter how hard I think about it, he… still doesn’t._ _He just seems like… I don’t even know what he seems like. Like there should be more to him than there is.”_

_ It had always frustrated Dipper to think about Bill. Was Bill really just some megalomaniac who didn’t care about anything except what he wanted? Just a powerful demon seeking more and more power and thought it would be fun to fuck with strangers’ lives along the way? There were no real motivations behind what Bill did. The little motivation Dipper could find – escaping his own decaying dimension – didn’t account for the way Bill was so insistent on not having rules, on just doing what he thought was fun, on having more power than anybody else. That one reason was disproportionate and  _ _ mostly _ _ irrelevant to everything Bill said and did. _

_ There wasn’t anything Dipper had overlooked all these years. Nothing he knew or had experienced about Bill added up  _ _ to form some big, coherent picture, no matter which way he looked at it. _

_ If everything he  _ _ already _ _ knew about  _ _ the demon _ _ was everything there  _ _**was** _ _ to know, Dipper was sure he’d never be able to understand Bill Cipher. _

“ _I just… that’s always bugged me,” he_ _laughed_ _, face heating up a little. Sometimes when he thought about this or talked about it with Mabel, he sounded nuts even to himself. “That I could never understand him. That I never… figured him out.”_

“ _You are a solver of mysteries by nature.” If it were possible, the Axolotl’s smile got wider. “You look for truth. You need truth. You never_ _learned_ _the truth about Bill Cipher, did you, child?”_

_ Dipper would protest about being called a child if he didn’t feel incredibly young at the moment. “ _ _ Nope,  _ _ I guess not _ _. I’m willing to bet you know it, but…” He sighed softly, though his smile stayed. “I’m also willing to bet you’re not just gonna tell me. That’s usually how stuff like this goes,  _ _ isn’t it _ _?” _

“ _Perhaps. I will tell you that Bill Cipher has been asleep for a long time._ _Since you defeated him, he has remained sealed away and dormant.”_

“ _That figures,” Dipper scoffed. Just that knowledge tugged at the still-healing edges of his mind. Somewhere deep inside him, however, he’d never been able to deny that Bill still being alive was a possibility. It had just been pushed_ _away_ _when Weirdmageddon 2.0 hadn’t been started in the past_ _few_ _years._ _There were more important things to worry about, and he had to go on with his life._ _“Bill doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’s that easy to kill for good.” More to the point, he’s not sure he would want to. Demon blood would still be blood on their hands if Bill_ _ **died.**_ _He just wished Bill would have found someone else to torment so they wouldn’t have been forced to what they did._

… _Even so. That would be making someone else’s life miserable._ _Shoving all those decisions on somebody else._ _At least Dipper and the others would be somewhat prepared for something like that_ _now_ _, after all they’d been through._

_Despite the atmosphere staying completely motionless, Dipper got the notion that the Axolotl was chuckling. “I apologize for thrusting you into the situation so suddenly, Dipper, but before Bill was sealed away, he invoked my name. A deal that the two of us made long ago. When called upon, it was a promise that he would be able to return. However…” The Axolotl’s eyes sparkled with something that was between mischief and benevolence. “You must know_ _by now_ _that Bill Cipher is highly impulsive and_ _has a startling lack of_ _foresight._ _He rarely thinks things through, considers all options, reflects on future consequences or outcomes. That means_ _o_ _ur deal was riddled with loopholes_ _to my advantage_ _._ _It is something seldom invoked for a reason, and that reason is the price._ _He will not be a danger to you or your loved ones. I simply have… quite a favor to ask of you regarding his return.”_

“… _A_ _favor, huh?” Dipper must have looked at least a little riled up by the way he felt. Bill was waking up. Coming back. And this being wanted Dipper to deal with something about that. “When he comes back, he’s gonna be pretty pissed at my famil_ _y_ _._ _And at me._ _Even without his powers, he might try to hurt us._ _”_

“ _That is true._ _I will understand if you decline. It will be a great responsibility placed on all of your shoulders. I know you may not wish for that._ _Please know that I will not be disappointed or upset if you tell me you do not want to deal with Bill again._ _You do not have to do it if you don’t want to._ _” The Axolotl showed no signs of lying, if he even could lie. It was an absolute guarantee that Dipper could make whatever choice he wanted; both for the sake of himself and his family. “_ _Because of the deal he made with me, I have chosen his form to be human. When he comes back, his powers will be inaccessible until he proves himself.”_

_Dipper quirked an eyebrow. While the Axolotl was significantly more willing to answer questions honestly than Bill was, evidently he was no less cryptic at first than the demon. “Proves himself how?”_

_The air swirled around them gingerly. “He must redeem himself, make up for all the chaos he has caused, and become a better person.”_

_ A snort was Dipper’s first reply, and he ducked his head down in a silent apology. That was probably kind of rude. Did the Axolotl really think that  _ _**Bill Cipher** _ _ was capable of that kind of change, though? “No offense, but… I’m really not sure he can do that. You’ve known him for a while, obviously. Do you really think a guy like that can make up for everything he’s done?” _

_The Axolotl’s smile became flattened in sympathy. “_ _Everything is impossible if you do not try._ _Whether or not any of you forgive him… well. That is not a condition of this, if you choose to accept it. You are all free to never grant him forgiveness; I understand if you cannot after everything he has done to you._ _It is not about him selfishly earning your forgiveness. It is about him changing to_ _improve himself_ _– selflessly. Not to earn anyone’s approval, but because it is_ _the_ _right_ _thing to do_ _. He must learn that his place in the universe does not permit him to cause wanton destruction for the sake of destruction. He simply… needs some help learning._ _Needs help understanding. He has been alive for so long, and is an adult, but… he has never truly grown up._ _Again, you are free to say no, but_ _you did say yourself… y_ _ou are still curious about him, are you not?”_

_Dipper glanced down again, because he couldn’t dispute that without lying._

“ _Before you decide, I will tell you this, child. You have not seen all that there is to see about Bill Cipher.”_

* * *

 

Maybe the Axolotl is an even greater manipulator than Bill. That’s how it seems with hindsight.

Just picking up the letter is enough to make a full memory rush through Dipper’s head. He knows it wasn’t a dream, and he remembers it all clearly… right up to finding Bill’s unconscious new body in place of the statue he’d been going to visit. (It was a dumb ritual, to be honest. Going out to that thing and just standing there, staring down at it, every time he came to Gravity Falls. Dipper is kind of glad the statue is gone so he can maybe break that habit.)

The only reason he agreed to this risky situation is because the Axolotl assured him that Bill would be unable to harm anyone like he had before. If Dipper didn’t have that promise, there’s no way he would be doing all this right now. He’s still not sure why the Axolotl would appear to _him_ and tell him everything and leave the choice to him. After all, he could have just as easily reached out to Stan or Ford, since they were already on their way back to Gravity Falls for the summer. Or Mabel, since she was here, too.

Was it because  Dipper was the one happened to be in the area  near the statue when whatever was left of Bill stirred? Was it because he’ s the one who’s still inquisitive?  Was it because he’s always been sensitive to the paranormal?

Whatever the reason, he made his bed. Now everyone’s got to lie in it. If things turn out poorly, it’s going to be on Dipper’s shoulders for agreeing to this.

He swings the door open after unlocking it to find Bill in almost the same position as he found him the first time. Those wide eyes, back ramrod-straight, still sitting on the bed. The only difference is that now he’s staring across the room into the mirror. It looks as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Take a selfie, man,” Dipper calls as he hands over the piece of parchment. “It’ll last longer.”

That seems to do it. It snaps Bill out of whatever trance he was in, and he scowls – first at Dipper, then at the letter that’s now lying on his lap. “What’s this, Pine Tree? List of demands? Some rules, maybe? Come on! Every prison has rules. I should know, I’ve been in most of them! What am I not allowed to do? Am I allowed to dress myself? I’m definitely not allowed to stab people, right? Can I stab myself? You’ll probably even refrain from giving me anything that could _possibly_ be made into a weapon! Humans are _so predictable!_ ”

Wow. Not that Dipper is surprised, but it looks like eight years haven’t made a dent in Bill’s  _ sparkling _ personality. He’s as big an asshole as ever. Only this time around, he can’t channel that into world-killing destruction. “Don’t be a dick. It’s from the Axolotl.”

The look on Bill’s face only intensifies. “Ohhhh! I should have  guessed that frilly know-it-all was behind this!”

“Yeah, seems like you guys have some history. Something about a deal you made with him?” Dipper knows it’s probably not wise to probe for information so early. It’s barely been a day since Dipper brought him back to the Shack, and even less since Bill’s been awake. Even more, nobody in this family trusts Bill, and he doesn’t trust any of them, so it’s likely to be fruitless. He still has to ask. He wouldn’t forgive himself if there was the slightest chance of getting anything and he passed it up.

Bill, on the other hand, is too busy reading the message to even register the fact that Dipper wants an answer out of him. There isn’t much writing on the page. Mainly it’s just two lines, centered, written in a code that corresponds to the language Bill slipped into earlier. Two lines that look to Bill as if they’re going to jump from the page and bite him in the face.

**JRRG OXFN, ELOO.**

**GRQ’W GR DQBWKLQJ L ZRXOGQ’W GR.**

If he could burn it to ash in his hand, he would.

“‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’! Are you kidding me?! What a pompous little–!” The thought goes unfinished as Bill literally hurls the piece of paper as far as he can manage. By virtue of being a piece of paper, it doesn’t go any farther than about a foot from the bed. He growls and reaches up to pull his hair out again. There’s got to be something he can control. This whole situation is ridiculous. When he used that deal, it was to save himself from dying, _not_ to be transferred to some pathetic skin puppet. “ Zkhq L jhw rxw ri khuh, kh lv _GHDG!_ ”

Dipper  almost feels bad for finding this so amusing. Were Bill in his usual demonic form, his little tantrum would involve fire  spiraling in every direction. In this form? He just looks like a kid pitching a fit because he didn’t get his way. It’s actually kind of hilarious to see a grown man  (or a trillion-year-old demon) acting like a toddler.  The only thing Dipper would change is that he wishes he had his phone to take a video of this.  If nothing else, his grunkles and Mabel would find it funny. “Alright, well, I’ve done my job.”

Although he’s curious, he also thinks it’s best not to be down here for too long at a time… at least for now. It’s probably a good idea to give Bill some time to cool off before anybody starts asking questions. Dipper heads toward the door and opens it, making sure to never turn fully around. Even though he has a guarantee that Bill can’t use his powers at the moment, there’s exactly nothing that stops him from just lunging at anybody as soon as their back is turned and using his human body as a weapon. Plus, he would have to be nuts to trust Bill. Probably not a great idea to turn his back on the guy right now. Or, well, ever. “Not sure who’s gonna be down next, but right now, I think we’re all gonna give you space. Try not to freak out so much; you’re only hurting yourself.”

Ten locks are done up in quick succession once the brunette exits the room completely. Bill sits there, and stares down at the paper he just threw, and wishes again that he could burn it to a crisp. This whole thing is a joke. Does the Axolotl honestly think Bill is going to  _ learn anything _ from this? All it’s done so far is make him panicked and angry, in that order. And all over. Right now,  the only thing he’s feeling is a cycle between fear and fury.

It’s going to make this weak body run out of steam sooner or later. Humans apparently can’t maintain extreme states of any emotion for too long.

“ _You’re only hurting yourself.”_

Dipper’s last words before leaving bounce around in Bill’s head, and almost as if to defy his captors, Bill’s fingernails grate down his cheeks again.

That’s fine. It’s fine that he’s only hurting himself.

At least it’s something he can control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!
> 
> JRRG OXFN, ELOO. = GOOD LUCK, BILL.
> 
> GRQ’W GR DQBWKLQJ L ZRXOGQ’W GR. = DON'T DO ANYTHING I WOULDN'T DO.
> 
> Zkhq L jhw rxw ri khuh, kh lv GHDG! = When I get out of here, he is DEAD!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford and Bill talk to each other again. It does not go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, everyone! My Gravity Falls mood has been very low and I keep forgetting to post this even though it's been done for a while.
> 
> I hope the quality makes up for the wait! <3
> 
> **Trigger warnings for this chapter in particular: Choking. Self harm. Violence, threats of violence, and talk of murder.**

The clock in this room makes time tick by far too slowly for Bill’s liking.

He tries to watch it for a while, to see exactly how long he’s been trapped in here. Black hands move at a steady pace, taking another second or minute or hour with them. It’s no comfort when combined with all the other sensations that Bill’s experiencing. Even when he stays completely still, he’s feeling something.

Pain isn’t funny or even good when he can’t control it. Three times he’s drug his nails down his face, and now his cheeks burn. It’s the tedious itch of his body healing itself from the damage he’s caused to it, new skin cells patching up the places where he’s scraped the others away, the agonizing stitch of one thing replacing something else. A normal human might not even feel it. Bill can’t ignore it. He sits there and focuses on everything that his body is doing even unconsciously.

“… Stop…”

His voice is small when he speaks out against his body. It’s not even enough to echo in the room. It doesn’t even _do_ anything. Then again, he didn’t expect it to. This body is human – _he’s_ human – and it’s just doing everything necessary to keep itself alive and healthy. It works involuntarily and won’t stop doing the things it needs to do to stay alive. All Bill can do is resign himself to all these feelings and try not to be bothered by them.

Trying not to be bothered by them means that all he can do is think. That’s never worked out great for him, to be perfectly honest. His thoughts are always negative and destructive and _wrong._ At the moment, most of them are consumed with hatred, which is actually the norm for him.

First off, the Axolotl. Who does that big, pink, frilly know-it-all think he is to use a deal _against_ Bill Cipher? Does he think he just magically knows what’s best for everybody? What right does he have to put Bill in a prison like this? What’s his endgame here, anyway? Does he think that Bill is going to learn from his mistakes, turn himself around, and just be a good person? Does he think the people that Bill tormented are going to forgive him with a snap of the fingers and everyone will skip happily into the sunset wearing flower crowns and saying how much they love Bill?

It’s all bullshit. That isn’t going to happen. That’s never going to happen. Even Bill knows he’s hurt too many people for anyone to think there’s any merit to keeping him alive. He’s hurt too many people for anyone to just pretend it never happened. That’s all forgiveness is, isn’t it? Playing pretend.

Even though he knows the Axolotl would have some defense against it (and/or act like it wasn’t happening), all Bill wants to do right now is use the giant lizard for target practice.

The second thing his mind turns to is the Pines family. Are they seriously keeping him locked in their basement? Whose idea was this? Why didn’t they just kill him as soon as they realized it was him inside this flimsy excuse for a form? What, are they not allowed to kill him or something? That would be… lame. More importantly, the first one who came down was Dipper. Pine Tree. Not exactly who Bill expected to be the first one to greet him. For sure he would have thought if any of the Pines would be the first to talk to him, it would be Ford. He should have been greeted with a six-fingered fist bump to the face.

… Not that he’s wishing for that right now. The only pain Bill wants at the moment is the kind he can be in control of. That’s why he keeps tugging at his hair, trying to rip strands out of his scalp one at a time. It’s getting boring even with the pain.

Are they just going to leave him down here and not speak to him? Let him waste away inside this fleshy jail cell?

Maybe. Maybe. It would actually be the perfect way to ensure that he’s dead. Leave him down here, just don’t feed him, don’t talk to him. Best of all, it wouldn’t actually be _killing_ him. At most it could be classified as neglect as far as humans are concerned. It wouldn’t be as if they ran him through or set him on fire or shot him in the head.

It looks to be about three o’clock when the sound of locks clicking reaches Bill’s ears again. This time, his eyes are up, he’s on guard, and his muscles are rigid from the start. Surely Dipper isn’t coming in here again with the bad attitude Bill gave him the first time.

The door opens, and at the very least, Bill was right about it not being Dipper. Who it actually is looks a lot less pleased to see him.

“Fordsy!” Although he’s still tense, he forces a smile. That’s always been something he’s good at. Besides, why shouldn’t he be happy to see his _old friend?_ It was Stanford Pines that helped him to almost carry out Weirdmageddon. The thought that perhaps he should be more cautious or at least mindful of his words around someone whose family he nearly annihilated doesn’t even cross his mind. Bill’s self-preservation instincts have never been at the absolute forefront of his mind, because it was always effortless for him to stay alive. At this point, that part of him is probably the lowest it’s ever been in all his entire existence, despite the fact that he’s more vulnerable now than ever. “Haha, wow, is it good to see _you!_ You crazy old so-and-so! How ya b–”

Before he can even finish his obnoxious greeting, a fist connects with the side of his face. The fingers have gotten a little bonier over the last near-decade, it seems, but otherwise, it feels pretty much like Bill would have expected from all the times he knew Ford imagined decking him.

That hit is probably the single most satisfying moment in Ford’s entire relationship with the former demon. It’s the first real time that Ford has been able to actually physically express all his rage at Bill. “You know, Cipher, everyone says revenge is overrated,” he quips as he cracks the knuckles of the fist he used. “But that? That felt pretty damn good.”

Bill doesn’t doubt it. Probably the same kind of feeling he felt when he vaporized Time Baby. That punch aggravated the scratches he’s already made himself, making the cheek that was hit begin to throb mercilessly. “Wow, Sixer.” It’s like he can’t shut up despite the fact that he knows he has absolutely _no_ room to be bold right now. He just can’t stop. “What was _that_ for?”

The glare that Ford gives him is full of a few different things. Anger. Offense. Curiosity. If Bill guessed what Ford’s thinking right now, and he guessed something along the lines of, _How can one person be_ _ **so fucking stupid?**_ _,_ he’d be right.

“… Okay, okay. So–” Bill pauses just long enough to set his fingers gingerly against the aching skin. “Maybe I deserved that.”

“ _Maybe?_ ” Oh, boy. Whatever fading spark of rage Ford’s been keeping caged in his heart about Bill, the blonde just turned it into a forest fire. “You play with my mind and others’ as if they’re toys, nearly kill my family, come to within an inch of destroying this dimension – and you think _maybe_ you deserve a punch in the face?!”

Blue eyes roll back in the other’s head as he mentally recounts exactly everything he did to the Pines family. “Well…” Planted the seeds of paranoia in all their minds, to the point that two of them have been dealing with it for thirty-plus years. Treated Dipper’s body like a rag doll at one point. Trapped Mabel in a place she almost didn’t want to leave. Turned Ford into a back scratcher. Tried to get Stan to betray his family and all of humanity. Tortured all of them in more than one sense of the word and various cruel, unique ways. He’s sure there’s more he’s done that he’s just forgetting at the moment.

All that without even getting into what he’s done to other people in other dimensions or how thoroughly he’s screwed up his own life.

“Sheesh, okay. I _probably_ deserved that.”

By this point, Bill would probably have several knives through his forehead if looks were daggers. “I see your mouth moving, but all I’m hearing is ‘Please punch me again’.”

Bill scoffs, rubbing at his cheek some more. _Ouch._ He thought it was bad enough before; thanks to the punch, now it really smarts. “Listen, I’m not any happier about this than you are. The only thing I’m marginally relieved about is that I’m alive in some capacity. Given that Frills decided to put me into a meatsack, I’d almost rather be dead.”

“If I were you, I’d watch your words. That can be easily arranged.” There’s a dangerous edge to Ford’s voice. Yes, it appears that when Bill looks into Ford’s eyes, he sees himself dead. Ford is absolutely, one-hundred-percent willing to end Bill’s life if Bill doesn’t cooperate.

The only thing Bill can think of to do is sneer. It’s not a face he likes to make, and it probably looks hideous on this body, but this isn’t exactly a situation he’s enjoying. It’s warranted. “Careful with that trigger finger, Stanford. I said _almost._ ”

It looks like Ford’s hand twitches – as if he wants nothing more than to punch Bill in the face again. He seems to overcome the urge to do so again, though. “Keep one thing in mind, Bill: I don’t have much patience left with you. If it were possible to have negative patience with someone, I’d have it with you. Do you understand what thin ice you’re on right now?”

“… Do _you_ have a _point?_ Yeah, of course I get it. There’s no rule that says I have to care.” He doesn’t let the expression fade from his face. Nobody is happy with this arrangement. As much as he lies about his happiness on the regular, this is the one time he doesn’t want to. He isn’t obligated to fake being grateful, humble, and cooperative. Especially to the people who tried to wipe him from the universe permanently. “If I’m on such thin ice, why haven’t you killed me already? If you’re so not bothered by doing it. Are you really only waiting for me to do something to deserve it? So that you can still say you’ve never murdered anyone unprovoked? So that you just _don’t have to feel bad about it?_ ”

This whole exchange feels like Bill is a bear poking at a beehive. ‘Murder’ in particular was probably a good choice if someone wants to make Ford angry. He evidently doesn’t feel too great about being a murderer for any reason. The scientist’s eyes narrow only by a fraction, but dangerously. The look in them doesn’t tell Bill anything he doesn’t already know. “This is your second warning, Bill. You only get one more.”

Bill throws his head back and lets out a bark of laughter. “ _AHAHAHA!_ That’s it, isn’t it?! You just want to think of yourself as a good person. And good people don’t kill. Right? Wow, I wonder what you were thinking the past eight years, when everyone was so sure I was actually dead. You must have felt pretty guilty. Wondered if you did the right thing. The murder of a bad person is still murder. And you can’t be a good person if you murder, huh?”

“Last warning, Bill.” There’s an edge in Ford’s voice that Bill is pretty sure he hasn’t heard before. It’s low and dark and even. Like the calm few seconds before a tornado suddenly rips a house from its foundation. “There’s only one good person in this room, and I can assure you, it is not the insane dream demon.”

Unsure of what he really wants to do, Bill raises his hand up and presses his fingernails against his cheek again. He’s not sure why he wants to repeat this action when he knows it’ll lead the painful, uncontrollable sensation of a healing wound. He does it anyway. The way Ford reaches for the inside of his coat when Bill moves his hand doesn’t escape his notice. “ _It isn’t you, either, Stanford._ ”

Before Bill knows what’s hit him, there are six fingers around his throat. His own fingertips have been yanked away from his face – although he’s pretty sure that wasn’t Ford’s intent. As it stands, the force used ensures that this time, Bill’s fingernails have drawn blood from his cheek. It burns, and he can’t even stand the sensation of it dripping down his face. It’s warm and thick and sticky, rolling down to trace his jawline in small beads. There isn’t much blood, but it’s enough to distract him. He doesn’t need another feeling to deal with on top of all the other ones that he feels by just existing.

Oh, well. It’s his own fault. He should have shut up when he had the chance. Unfortunately, that seems to be something he’s incapable of doing.

What a shame.

“You listen to me, demon.” Ford’s voice comes out in a growl, and Bill is _certain_ it’s something he’s never heard from Ford. There are a few similar tones that his memories scrounge up. Some of them come close. None of them quite hit the mark on how he sounds right this second. This is… primal. The thought has never crossed his mind before that Stanford Pines could be scary. Now it’s all he’s thinking. “If you don’t believe me, fine. But I want you _dead._ The universe would be an immensely better place without you in it. You destroy everything you touch.”

“Tell me… something… I don’t… know…” Bill manages to interrupt. That fact is nothing new to him. All he’s ever done is destroy things. It’s all he can do. It’s what he’s good at. It’s all he’s good at. Speaking while one is being choked is… difficult. He’s not sure what he expected. His voice comes out in a weak wheeze as he tries hard not to gasp for air. “Ha… ha… I… believe you… Fordsy…”

Kind of hard to doubt that someone wants you dead when they’ve got their hand around your neck and you feel like you’re breathing through a straw.

“Good. Then you and I are on the same page, aren’t we? You don’t want to be here, and I don’t want you here. You hurt my family, you hurt me, and if you try to do it again, I won’t hesitate to get rid of you for good like we were trying to do in the first place.” He’s never heard Ford’s voice sound so cold and distant. It hits Bill all at once: he and Ford aren’t friends. Not in the slightest. This isn’t a friendly rivalry.

Sure, it was mostly a ploy on Bill’s part, and he knew that once Ford knew the truth about everything, there was no way he’d help Bill anymore. But he genuinely enjoyed Ford’s company and conversation the same way he enjoyed that of his ‘friends’. It wasn’t hard to understand. Although none of them would exactly put their life or limb on the line for each other, and they used each other, and even ate each other sometimes, (demonic regeneration came in handy sometimes, especially during times of famine), they could still have a good time together. That was all they could do with each other. Help wasn’t offered unless you deceived someone into it. The second something went wrong, you were on your own. Betrayals were to be expected.

That’s how friends _work,_ right?

Right?

Apparently, he never had even that much with Ford. Ford’s only here to keep Bill in line, to fight against him, and to kill him for real if Bill so much as steps a toe out of line.

This revelation shouldn’t be so shocking.

Bill starts to laugh again, and it’s only so he can cry from laughing instead of just crying.

Besides, this is pretty funny, isn’t it?

Bill’s spent the majority of his life tricking everyone around him and treating everyone he meets like dirt.

Now that the shoe’s on the other foot, clearly he can’t handle it.

It’s pure irony, and that shit is hilarious.

Even when Ford removes his hand from Bill’s throat, looking vaguely disturbed but confident that Bill’s got the message, the former demon can’t stop laughing.

When Ford leaves, slamming the door before every lock clicks in quick succession, Bill’s laughing so hard, tears are streaming down his face. They mix with the blood from the fingernail cuts, and plop down onto the part of his thigh that’s exposed by the shorts he’s wearing.

By the time Ford’s gone back up the stairs, Bill’s laughter has become hollow, and the crying is the only part that’s actually real.

 _This can’t be happening._ It just can’t be.

**Author's Note:**

> Bill's 'language' is a simple Caesar cipher with a shift of three. You can decipher it yourself using a decoding website, or, there are translations below! There'll be more in the next chapter, and Bill will slip into the 'cipher language' when he's emotional (or just whenever he doesn't want someone to know what he's saying, lol), so if you'd like to decipher it yourself, it'll be the same shift-of-three Caesar cipher every time! :)
> 
>  **Zkdw’v jrlqj rq?!** = What's going on?!
> 
>  **Zkb dp L wudsshg lq wklv xvhohvv phdwvdfn dqg ZKHUH DUH PB SRZHUV?!** = Why am I trapped in this useless meatsack and WHERE ARE MY POWERS?!


End file.
